


if we can choose our bruises

by kimaracretak



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Forgiveness, Gore, Knifeplay, Magic, Season/Series 01, Threesome - F/F/F, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26420350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/pseuds/kimaracretak
Summary: In the aftermath of death, relationships must be mended.
Relationships: Agatha/Dorcas/Prudence Night
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11
Collections: RelationShipping 2020





	if we can choose our bruises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheseusInTheMaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/gifts).



> But you got under my skin  
> Your skin under my nails  
> Your smell on my hair  
> Your marks on my arms  
> If we can choose our bruises I've made my choice  
> — Unwoman, 'Bruises'

They take Agatha back to the woods after she's recovered. Recovered enough, at least - she fights them halfheartedly, still uncomfortable with the idea of being taken; still, perhaps, distrustful of her sisters, even though they brought her back. But Sabrina has taken too much from them for Prudence to back down now, to let the ... changes she has tried to bring stand. 

So she and Dorcas dress Agatha up - dark tights, grey lace dress, white collar, dark green mesh gloves - and walk with her into the woods, past alder and hawthorne and all the way to the river where they built their first house in the roots of a willow tree when they were seven. Agatha waits while her sisters work: Dorcas builds the fire, which crackles red as her hair at a single touch of fingers to wood, and Prudence sets out the knives. They're ritual tools, handles and blades alike carved and stained with silver such that they would never be strong enough to cut, but it didn't matter. The spellwork contained within could do much deeper damage.

"Sit, please," Prudence says when everything has been laid out in order to her satisfaction. She even takes the lead, cross-legged on a bare patch of earth.

In the firelight, she can see shadows flicker across Dorcas and Agatha's faces as they exchange glances before obeying. Not the most promising of signs, but not something she couldn't deal with, either. "I'm glad you came, Agatha," she says, and Agatha says nothing about how she didn't have a choice. "And I'm glad you were able to help ... bridge the gap between us, somewhat, Dorcas," and Dorcas bows her head, murming something that might be you're welcome.

Prudence lets the night hang quietly between them for a long moment, the steady snapping of the fire and the echoing calls of goblins and owls alike on their hunts soothing her. She never feels closer to other witches than she does in the woods, it's only right that they be the thing to bring the sisters back together.

"Obviously much has changed between us in the past few days," she says. "The two of you hurt me when you acted against mortal men without my permission or involvement." They shift uncomfortably at the reminder, but the time for denial was long past. "And Dorcas and I hurt Agatha when we let the Spellman brat kill her."

Agatha sticks her tongue out and mimes choking on dirt, and Dorcas adds, "And let her bring Agatha back improperly."

Prudence scowls at being interrupted, but Dorcas is right - they need a full account of wrongs if tonight's ritual is going to be successful. "And let the bitch raise a sad fading version of Agatha back, as if that made up for anything," she says, and she has to make an effort to shove her anger away. Tonight is just about her and her sisters. "These things damaged our relationship with each other in ways we should be long beyond. And so tonight, we reaffirm our love for each other."

She picks up her blade and passes it three times through the fire. "Dorcas will go first," she says, "Because Agatha and I are the ones who haven't worked together yet. Don't worry, sisters, we'll all have our turn."

It's a mark of the love that they still share - will always share - that Dorcas lies back without complaint. 

Prudence stands, blade in her right hand, and offers her left to Agatha, who hesitates only a fraction of a second before taking it. Together they circle the fire, joined hands rising and falling over it as the flames rise to lick briefly against their skin - Dorcas' eagerness made manifest.

"Keep her occupied while I get her clothes off," Prudence instructs, and Agatha lets go of her hand to kneel and trace her fingertips over Dorcas' mouth. Prudence kneels too, slices Dorcas' dress collar to hem, and in the brief moment before Agatha slips her fingers into Dorcas' mouth, Prudence hears her moan.

"That was the easy part," Prudence says - or is it Agatha? Already the lines are blurring, as ivy creeps from the ground to wrap around Dorcas' wrists and ankles, and excitement swells in Prudence's heart. She presses her thighs together as she pulls the fabric of Dorcas' tattered dress away from her body, baring her pale skin to the night. It's far from unmarked - they all have their scars, from magic and from each other, but tonight's marks will be new. 

"I want this more than I wanted to hurt either of you." The words are muffled around Agatha's fingers, but they're unmistakable.

Prudence bends to press a fleeting kiss between Dorcas' breasts, there and gone before she can even begin to struggle against her bonds in an attempt to reach for her. "Ready?" It's a mere formality, but mere formalities are part and parcel of witch's ritual, so Dorcas nods, as she must. "Good," Prudence says, and slices Dorcas from neck to navel just like the dress, and Dorcas' scream is only partially swallowed by Agatha's kiss as the first spell is loosed from her knife.

She peels the skin back gently, Agatha murmuring soothing things against Dorcas' lips all the while, and by the time Dorcas is entirely exposed - muscles and bones glistening like gems in the firelight - her screams have subsided to mere whimpers. "Am I pretty?" Dorcas whispers, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Am I - I can't look, tell me, sisters, am I pretty?"

"The prettiest," Prudence says, and no dreams or academic studies could prepare her for this - for reaching inside Dorcas and feeling her heart, black and whole and big enough for the three of them. "Feel her, Agatha, you must feel her."

Dorcas whines at the loss of her mouth, too, and under any other circumstances Prudence would find it annoying. But here in the woods, alone with her sisters and their love, she wants to memorise every noise, every whimper and moan and cry mingling with the life around them until Prudence feels more perfect and unholy than ever before.

She nudges the hilt of the knife against Dorcas' cunt, experimentally, and finds her so wet that she thinks she could probably take the whole thing, blade and all. She presses just the hilt in, her cunt opening with just as much ease as her skin, and Dorcas thrashes in her bonds at the overwhelming sensation - Prudence's knife in her cunt, Agatha's hand on her heart, it must be verging on too much, and Prudence can't wait for her turn. But she must tend to Dorcas first.

"In your heart we - we live," she says, stuttering over the words. Her own arousal was rising to meet her sisters' even though she hadn't been touched yet. "And if you forget that, we will put ourselves back. Do you understand?"

Dorcas nods, her hair wild against the ground, her body trembling as Agatha lets go of her heart and presses bloody fingertips against her cheek. Prudence watches as she turns her head to lean as far into the touch as possible, trembles as Dorcas frees a hand just enough that she can trace cold fingertips over the swell of her breast.

"I need you to say it out loud," she says, and she watches Dorcas' lungs expand, contract, feels her fingers tighten on her breast, just on the edge of pain but wholly safe. 

"Yes," Dorcas cries, so loud it echoes off the trees around them, and, _yes_ , her sisters murmur in their shared voice.

Prudence is shivering so hard she's almost worried she'll make an unintentional cut as she pulls the knife out of Dorcas. Agatha steadies her hands as she carefully folds Dorcas' skin back and runs the flat of the blade down the seam of her chest, loosing the final spell. She'll scar - the magic makes sure of it - but the damage to her body is repaired, and with it, a third of their relationship.

It takes longer for Dorcas to stop trembling, and her sisters take turns kissing her through the recovery. When she sits up on her own, Prudence smiles.

"Me next, sisters," she says, and lays back on the ground, still smiling as Agatha and Dorcas kneel over her.


End file.
